Riptides Wrath and Murder: A Crystal Coast Case Read online

  “Nope. Atlantic Beach PD will investigate if necessary,” Charlie said.

  “Have any friends over here?”

  “Of course.” He chuckled. “But if you’re looking for letters of introduction, I wouldn’t count on them getting you very far.”

  “Oh?”

  “Chief Pelletier doesn’t use outside help unless it’s absolutely necessary. Besides, he’s good friends with Kat Matthews.”

  Allie groaned. “The good ol’ boy network again.”

  “Listen, kiddo. Let Darius do his thing, and then we’ll go from there. If there is a case, and that’s a big if, I’ll see what I can do, but I’m afraid it won’t be much.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.” She hung up just as one of the detectives approached them. He was tall and middle-aged with wispy brown hair.

  “Allie Fox?” he asked.

  “That’s me,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He took it and said, “Detective Green, ABPD.”

  “I figured,” she said.

  “And you’re Sheila Bishop, Charlie’s wife?” He opened a small notebook and clicked his ballpoint.

  Sheila nodded.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The detective nodded his head but didn’t smile. “Do y’all know who found the body?”

  Allie glanced at Sheila, who said, “No. A crowd had formed around him when I realized what was going on.”

  He turned to Allie. “But you did examine the body.”

  “I did.”

  He nodded and flipped his notebook closed. “We’re going to need a statement from you. Can you come over to the station?”

  Allie nodded. “Is it okay if I get my brother home and settled first?”

  “Sooner the better, Miss Fox.”

  She smiled and nodded, but the detective remained stone-faced.

  “And I’m sure we know where to reach you if we need you, Mrs. Bishop.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Sheila said.

  The detective turned and headed back toward the crowd. Allie exchanged looks with Sheila. “Pleasant fellow,” she said.

  “Just wait until you meet Chief Pelletier. I’m sure you’ll get the chance when you give your statement.” Sheila cocked an eyebrow.

  “Not a fan?”

  “That man is colder than a well-digger’s ass.” Sheila smirked.

  “Good to know,” Allie said as they turned toward the pier house.

  Chapter Three

  Allie stepped into the seventies-style travertine lobby of the Atlantic Beach Police Department and approached the uniformed officer stationed at the front desk. He looked her over with no trace of a smile. "Help you?" he asked, eyebrows lifted.

  “I’m here to make a statement regarding the body that washed up on the beach today," she said.

  He nodded and consulted his screen after a few keystrokes. “Have a seat and someone will come get you in a minute.”

  Allie looked around and spied a bland, scratchy-looking couch behind her. She checked her watch, glanced at the desk sergeant who cocked an eyebrow at her, and then plopped onto the stiff seat of the couch. Allie knew better than to expect anyone to collect her anytime soon, and she pulled out her cell to see if Mike had texted her. They had driven home from the pier in silence, and although Allie knew that Mike was upset, it was unlike him to remain this angry for this long. A sliver of fear shot through her torso. What if he’s angry enough to leave me? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He won’t. We can work this out. Whatever this is.

  She was too keyed up to scroll through social media and didn’t want to lose her focus before giving her statement, and possibly meeting Chief Pelletier. He sounded like a prick, and she wanted to be on her toes. After at least another fifteen minutes, enough time to make her uncomfortable, she surmised, another uniformed officer came through a side door to collect her. "Miss Fox?”

  "That’s me.” Allie smiled.

  The officer did not return her smile and wore the same slightly raised eyebrows as the desk sergeant, as if judging her mere presence in the station. “Follow me, please."

  Allie scooped up her purse and followed the woman into the large report room where officers and detectives used various computers, desks, and printers to write up their reports and notes on investigations in progress. The officer gestured to a stiff-backed chair with a cracked vinyl seat next to the desk where she sat.

  "I’m Sergeant Bell. Let’s get started on your statement."

  "Okay," Allie said, settling into the uncomfortable chair.

  After getting Allie’s personal information, Sergeant Bell asked, "You were at the pier earlier today?”

  "I was. With my boyfriend Mike Gillikin and my brother, Ryan."

  “You arrived together?"

  Allie nodded. "My brother went to find our friend, Sheila Bishop, and Mike and I followed him toward the beach.”

  "At what point did you become aware of the body?"

  "I was told about the body by Sheila Bishop when she approached me and Mike with Ryan in tow.”

  The sergeant typed her words almost as quickly as Allie said them, and then glanced at her, urging her to continue,

  "Um, let’s see. We arranged for Mike to take Ryan to get the fishing poles, and then Sheila and I hurried toward the crowd."

  The sergeant stopped typing and looked up, but not at Allie. It was only then that Allie realized someone was behind her.

  "Sir," the sergeant said.

  "Sergeant,” a gravelly voice responded.

  Sergeant Bell stood from her chair and retreated out of sight as Chief Pelletier stepped forward, pulled the sergeant’s desk chair out, and turned it to face Allie.

  "Well, hello, there, darlin’,” he said as the corners of his thin lips turned up. "You must be the infamous Allie Fox."

  "My name is Allie Fox, yes," she said carefully.

  "I’m Chief Pelletier of the Atlantic Beach PD, but you’re so clever, you probably figured all that out already, didn’t ya?"

  She nodded but couldn’t return his smile. It hadn’t reached his eyes, anyway. Had never even attempted to.

  "I won’t steal too much of your time, Miss Fox. I just wanted to put a face with the name I’ve heard so often.”

  After an awkward beat, she asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

  He leaned forward, the smile dropping from his face. "See, that’s the thing, Miss Fox. We don’t need your help.” His lips parted to show clenched teeth, and then his fake smile returned as he leaned back into the chair. “Maybe Charlie Bishop is losing his touch, or has a weakness for young women. I don’t know. But we sure don’t need any help from you.” He stood. "Especially on an accidental death.”

  "What makes you so sure it was accidental?” Allie asked.

  “That’s why I’m the professional." He smirked. "And you’re… Well, you’re nothing."

  Allie stared at him and raised her brows, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

  Pelletier must have caught it because she noticed the skin on his neck rolls flush crimson as his mouth twisted into a grimace.

  "When you’re finished giving your statement, Miss Fox, you be sure to get back quick to that ex-con boyfriend of yours, and your little brother, the touched one. We wouldn’t want any of you to have any accidents yourselves."

  Allie cocked her head. “That’s not a threat, Chief, is it?"

  This time, his thin-lipped smile did reach his eyes. "O’course not, darlin’. My job is to serve and protect. Now you run on home where you belong."

  He patted her shoulder as he walked by, and she recoiled from his touch. She could still hear his receding chuckle when Sergeant Bell returned to finish taking her statement.

  Chapter Four

  Mike eyed Allie from the couch as she entered the trailer, threw her purse into one of the chairs at the table, and let out a heavy sigh.

  When he said nothing, she asked, "What?

  He returned his gaze to the television wit
hout an answer.

  "Where’s Ryan?”

  “His room," Mike said.

  She stretched her neck to the right and left, then walked down the short hallway to Ryan’s end of the trailer. Knocking softly and then opening the door, she said, “Hey, bud."

  Ryan didn’t look up from his drawing but smiled. "Hay is for horses."

  A rueful smile played on her lips and she opened the door wider to step in. "You okay?"

  This time, he glanced at her as his smile faltered. “No surfing." It was a statement, not a question.

  "I know, Ryan. That was a big bummer, huh?"

  He nodded, returning his attention to his drawing.

  "Somebody had an accident, so they postponed the competition. But Sheila says they’ll reschedule and we can go watch then, okay?"

  He nodded again. "What kind of accident?"

  Allie hesitated, and she knew Ryan had noticed it. “They aren’t sure yet, but I’m going to try to find out."

  “You are?" a deeper voice asked from behind her.

  She turned to face Mike who had overheard what she had said.

  "I have to try," she said.

  "Do you, though?”

  She had no answer and Mike withdrew back toward the living room.

  “Will Charlie help?" Ryan asked.

  "I’m not sure, Ryan. We’ll have to wait and see a bit,"

  "Can I go see Frankie tomorrow?" Apparently, he was done talking about the accident, if that was what it was, thinking now of his girlfriend as most boys his age would.

  "I think so," Allie said. "Let me text Mrs. Knight, okay?"

  Allie headed back to join Mike in the living room,

  "I don’t like fighting with you," she said.

  "I don’t like it either," he said, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees. "But I like worrying about you even less."

  She sighed. "I get it. I really do,"

  "I’m not sure you do," he said, his eyes searching hers.

  "I wish I could help you understand why cases like this, and like the one at the lighthouse are so important to me.”

  "And I wish I understood why my worry for your safety just isn’t."

  “That’s not fair," she said. "You’re putting words into my mouth."

  Mike stood. “Just because you don’t say them doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking them.” He pushed a hand through his hair. "I’m going to head out. Try to cool off.”

  Allie bit her lip. "Okay." She felt like she needed to apologize for something, but knew she didn’t.

  "I’ll call you tomorrow." He was out the door in two long strides.

  Allie hugged herself and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  The door to the shed creaked as she pulled it open, and she stepped inside, swinging her arm about to find the string attached to the lightbulb. Finally, her fingers met cotton and she yanked, turning away from the sudden illumination.

  After Mike had left, she couldn’t settle. Her intention had been to come in and release some aggression by boxing a few rounds. She glanced at the large bag, picturing Chief Pelletier’s face on it. Her hands clenched into fists and she smiled until the face turned into Mike’s, and then she turned away.

  I’m not mad at Mike. Just… frustrated.

  She leaned against the workbench and looked at her father’s space, sighing. The faded and rusted antique metal signs he had tacked up on the walls reminded her of the weekend trips to flea malls and antique shops they had taken, just the two of them. The ongoing hunt for the rare and interesting had likely contributed to her interest in detecting, she mused. She turned and fingered the tools hung on the pegboard above the makeshift workbench, untouched since she had moved back into their home. And along a high shelf at the back of the shed was a row of old coffee cans containing nails, screws, twine, and other handy bits a person might need to maintain a small property.

  She felt a pang in her chest at the thought that her dad would never meet Mike, and wondered what he would say about their current… disagreement.

  “Well, Dad?” she asked aloud.

  The only response came from the frogs singing from the small creek behind the shed. She yanked the cotton string, the shed went dark, and she went back inside the trailer.

  Allie’s eyes popped open at the sound of her cell phone. It took her a few seconds to process where she was, the morning light falling in unfamiliar places on her face. She took in the armchair, the front door, and the TV set, then realized she must have fallen asleep on the couch after Mike’s abrupt departure and the lack of answers in the shed.

  She hopped up and crossed the living room to the dining table where her purse was likely in one of the chairs. Retrieving her phone, she touched the green circle on her screen without registering the name above it.

  “Hello?” her voice cracked with sleep.

  “Did I wake you?” Charlie’s baritone rumbled.

  Allie smiled and the panic that had clutched her chest eased. “No,” she lied.

  Charlie chuckled. “Okay then. You got a minute?”

  “Of course,” Allie said, winding her way back to the couch to sit.

  “How’d it go at the ABPD?”

  “It was lovely.”

  “Pelletier talk to you?” Charlie asked.

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Said he didn’t need my help, just like you predicted.”

  Charlie sighed. “I doubt that was all he said.”

  “Let’s just say he made sure I knew my place, which is nowhere near Atlantic Beach, and somewhere in my kitchen, preferably barefoot.”

  “I do believe Kat Matthews has told him a thing or two about you.”

  “You think?” Allie snorted.

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to deal with him. He’s a piece of work. But I wanted to let you know that Ebbie’s estranged son is on his way to town.”

  “Oh?”

  “And from what I hear, he doesn’t believe for a minute that Ebbie’s death was an accident. If this goes the way I think it might, he might be looking for his own investigator.”

  “But they were estranged,” Allie said.

  Charlie paused. “They were.”

  “Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

  “Relationships are complicated, Allie.”

  “Did Ebbie have money?” she asked. The kid had no relationship with his father, but suddenly appears when he dies? Doesn’t add up. Of course, some around here may have thought the same of me.

  “Not sure. He could have,” Charlie conceded.

  “Is Darius doing an autopsy?”

  “Yep. Apparently, he saw what you saw,” Charlie said.

  “Your contacts able to tell you when he’s done with the autopsy?”

  “I should be able to find out. But don’t go calling him and getting him into trouble.”

  “Trouble!” Allie said.

  “Pelletier doesn’t want you near the case, if there’s even a case. And you’d better believe Kat Matthews doesn’t want you near it, either. What do you think will happen to Darius for talking to you?”

  “Hm.”

  “I know that Hm. Don’t do it, Allie. Darius’s career is not worth you getting involved.”

  “All right, all right. Point taken.” Allie sighed. “Got any contact info for the son?”

  “I’ve got Sheila reaching out to her contacts. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.”

  “Sure thing, kiddo.” He paused. “You know, just because I said he probably drowned doesn’t mean he did.”

  “Changing your mind?” she asked,

  “I haven’t seen any evidence, so how could I? But you know, not everyone loved Ebbie.”

  “Oh?”

  “And it would be a shame if no one investigated his death just because of politics.”

  “Do you think that’s at play here? Don’t call it murder, it’ll scare away the tourists?”

  “In Carteret County? It’s always
at play, Allie.”

  Chapter Five

  While it was still a quiet Sunday morning, Allie padded into the kitchen to start a cup of coffee. She hadn’t heard Ryan yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t awake. Sometimes he was awake at dawn, pacing and talking to himself, or quietly drawing in his room. Other times, he slept until noon. Either way, she didn’t want to interrupt him, and it was nice to have a moment to herself once in a while. She realized she hadn’t texted Mrs. Knight yet about Ryan and Frankie getting together and made a mental note to do so a little later in the morning. When the coffee was ready, she made her way to the small front deck and sat on the top steps, enjoying the warm autumn morning.

  Peg came out onto her similarly sized deck and greeted Allie. “Hey, stranger! It seems like ages since I’ve talked to you!” She let her pups wander in the grass between the two trailers and walked purposefully toward Allie, her own mug in hand. “Can I join you?”

  “Sure thing.” Allie smiled and scooted over on the step to make room.

  “How’re things?” Peg asked and took a tentative sip.

  “Okay,” Allie said, hearing how unconvincing she sounded.

  “What’s up?” Peg asked, a wrinkle forming in her brow.

  “Found another body.”

  “You didn’t!”

  Allie nodded. “Actually, I didn’t find it. But it washed up on the beach while we were there yesterday. And you know me…”

  “Did Ryan see?” Peg’s eyebrows climbed upward.

  “No, we were careful to get him out of there before he could see anything that might upset him.”

  “We meaning…”

  “Mike,” Allie said without elaborating.

  Peg looked at her. “Things okay with you two?”

  Allie shrugged but couldn’t hide her heartache.

  “Oh, hon. Whatever it is, I’m sure you will work it out. He loves you too much.”

  “I’m just not sure anymore,” Allie said, her voice sounding strangled even in her own ears.

  Peg patted her knee. “There, there. I didn’t mean to upset you. Would you like to talk about something else? Here I am prattling on about dead bodies and bringing up painful subjects.”